Singing a Song...

by Crystal V. Rhodes

  “Are you all right?” The familiar voice left Moody standing stunned and speechless. A voice on the other side of her made an inquiry.

  “What happened? Why are we stopping?” The voice was husky, as if awakening from sleep.

  Moody’s heart threatened to explode. He found it hard to breathe as Darnell turned away from him momentarily to answer the question, then turned back to him.

  “I’m so sorry. I’m sure the driver didn’t see you. I know that he frightened you. Are you sure you’re okay?”

  Frozen in place, Moody nodded. All that he wanted to say to her, all of the plans he had made for when he met her face-to-face, were forgotten as he devoured her lovely face.

  “Let me see. We didn’t hurt him, did we?” He could hear the rustling behind Darnell. This wasn’t how he wanted it to be. This wasn’t how he had planned it. He stepped back further just as a second face appeared at the window and peered at him with curiosity. A mature version of her daughter’s, the face was even lovelier than it had been that day on the beach.

  Moody felt dizzy, but he willed himself to stand tall as he managed to mumble,

  “I’m fine.” Two pairs of large brown eyes examined him, reassuring themselves that what he said was true.

  Darnell smiled, and he nearly lost it. “If you’re sure you’re okay—” She said something to the driver, then turned back to Moody. “Really, I’m sorry, and I’m glad that you’re not hurt.” Bev leaned back, the window went up slowly, and they drove away. He stood on the curb watching them until the limo disappeared.

  Inside the car, Bev looked out of the tinted back window at the man standing on the corner. There was something about him.

  “He’s a cutie pie,” she said appreciatively.

  Darnell chuckled. “Watch it now, Ray might get jealous.”

  Bev’s head whipped around to scowl at her daughter indignantly. She was fully awake now. “Ray? Girl, pleeeeze! You have got to be kidding!” She rolled her eyes so hard that they ached. Her daughter collapsed with laughter that lasted all the way to the theatre.

  Moody couldn’t remember how he got to his car. Still shaken, he leaned on the hood, trying to recover. It took him a while to become aware of the presence of someone behind him. Turning, he was surprised to see that it was Russ.

  “Hey, man! Where did you come from?” Then he remembered the luggage. “Oh, yeah, your things. They’re in the trunk.” He started to move past him, then stopped. “Say, how did you find me? And how did you get here?”

  Russ was unresponsive. His expression was blank. Out of the corner of his eye, to his right, Moody noticed a large, dark-skinned figure walking toward them. He turned slightly and saw a light-skinned man approaching them from the left. He didn’t recognize either man. Then comprehension dawned. His eyes returned to Russ.

  “Et tu, Brute?” The words from Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar were the only thing he could think of at the moment. There was no doubt that they were appropriate for the occasion.

  “I told you that it was serious,” Russ said, looking him directly in the eye, “but you wouldn’t listen.” He motioned toward Moody’s rental car. “Open the door and get in.”

  The two henchmen sat in the front seat. One drove. Relieving Moody of his weapon, Russ sat in the backseat beside him. Moody kept waiting for panic to come, but it didn’t. It was strange, but he felt serene. It was as if instinctively he had known that this day would come. Actually, it was probably long overdue. There was nowhere to run this time, so he might as well sit back and relax. He turned to Russ.

  “So, I take it that the house staff has been notified that I won’t be returning.”

  “You decided to go back east with me. Someone will be sent for your belongings.”

  “I see. What about the rental car?”

  “It’ll be returned, and the bill will be paid with cash.”

  “So no one is expected to ever find me.”

  Russ turned from the window for the first time and looked at him. “No.”

  “How ironic.” It was Moody’s turn to look out of the window at the passing scenery. They were crossing the Golden Gate Bridge headed for Marin County. Retribution would soon occur, but he couldn’t complain. How many men had he helped disappear over the years in his rise to the top?

  Like Russ, he had betrayed his own mentor—a man who had treated him like a son. He had started working for him at the age of eighteen. The cover for his mentor’s business was a thriving construction company, and his boss had taught him everything that he knew about the underworld. But as a young man, his ambition had been greater than his loyalty to his mentor. He had betrayed him for financial gain. When his duplicity was uncovered, not only was his life in jeopardy, but also the life of his pregnant wife. That was a price he was unwilling to pay. She knew nothing about his clandestine activities. Her life meant more to him than his own. If he was dead, then she would be safe. So an innocent stranger was sacrificed and sent to a watery grave as Colton Cameron.

  A new man had emerged named Moody Lake. Plastic surgery made that possible. It wasn’t difficult changing everything about himself. Yet his memories remained intact, and so did the love that had a hold on his heart. For a brief moment today, after seeing the objects of that love, he had felt alive again. He couldn’t help appreciating that irony since this would be the last day of his life. But, it really didn’t matter. He had been dead for thirty-two years anyway.

  The driver turned on the radio, and the sound of music filled the car’s interior. Leaning forward, Moody tapped the driver on the shoulder. He turned slightly, acknowledging him.

  “Yeah?”

  “I’ve got one final request, if you don’t mind.”

  “What is it?” The inquiry came from Russ.

  “Turn up the radio,” Moody addressed the driver. He granted his request. Moody settled back in his seat as the singer’s glorious voice enchanted the car’s occupants.

  Russ looked at Moody, who sat with his eyes closed and his head leaning back against the headrest. A look of pure rapture was on his face. He scoffed.

  “Man, you act like Darnell Cameron is singing that song for you.”

  An ethereal smile teased Moody’s lips as the image of Bev and his daughter smiling up at him floated through his memory. He nodded. “Yes, I like to think that she is. I love her. I guess you could say that I’m her biggest fan.”

  CHAPTER 27

  Darnell stood bathed in a blue spotlight. Her form-fitting, hand-beaded gown glistened like diamonds. Her braids were pulled away from her face and gathered in a chignon at the nape of her neck. Words from the love song “So Amazing” tumbled from her lacquered lips like velvet.

  She had dedicated the song to “someone who means the world to me,” and had added mysteriously, “and he knows who he is.”

  Members of the black-tied gala mumbled among themselves. Hadn’t she been dumped recently by her boyfriend? They had expected tortured songs of love lost, not of love found. Had someone mended her broken heart already? They glanced around the crowded ballroom. Could the lucky man be here? Every man in the room, available and unavailable, pretended.

  In the back of the room, leaning casually against the wall, his arms folded across his chest, his eyes transfixed by the vision on the stage, one man didn’t have to wonder or pretend. Thad knew that those words were meant for only him. It was a song that had been sung to him in a scent-filled bath in Carmel, and he was present to hear it again.

  There was a chance for them. The tensions that had so dominated their relationship had dissipated, and friendship had replaced it. The obstacles that had been blocking their path no longer existed, but new ones would replace them testing their resolve. Their feelings for each other had been nurtured in an environment devoid of the pressures of media or fans. Public disclosure about their relationship would change all of that, but he had faith that the two of them could weather any storm, overcome any future obstacles, as long as they did it together.


  Delayed in Los Angeles by unexpected business, he had arrived in San Francisco only two hours before the affair. Ray had been right when he said an invitation would not be a problem. One telephone call to the event organizers, plus a sizable donation to the cause, and Thad became an honored guest.

  Arriving in the city with so little time, he had barely had time to shower, shave, and dress in his tuxedo before the limo arrived. At the theatre, he had gone through the customary routine with the Who’s Who and the Wanna Be Who.

  He’d smiled, posed and signed autographs, then found the spot in the back of the room where he now stood, glowing with pride, as he listened to Darnell’s awesome talent.

  He looked around the room at the faces captivated by her amazing voice and stage presence. Many of the faces he recognized. There were Hollywood superstars, political dignitaries of the highest level, and of course the President of the United States and the First Lady. Thad also spotted Duncan Whittaker. His presence was no surprise. Sitting in the VIP section reserved for the President, he saw Darnell’s mother. Her love for and pride in her daughter was written clearly on her face. He knew how she felt. Returning his attention to the stage, everything else around him faded into oblivion. Darnell stood on stage bathed in a single spotlight—singing a song for him.

  He had hoped to see her before the show. He had wanted to see the look on her face when she saw him, but luck hadn’t been with him. Access backstage was limited to the president and a select few. Determined to be one of the latter, he had schemed to go backstage to her after the concert. A casual remark by the hostess assigned to him altered that plan, however.

  Introducing herself as Brooke Presser, the young college student greeted him in the hotel lobby and escorted him to the limo. She was nineteen, a sophomore at Howard University, who was visibly nervous about meeting a movie star. Thad had put her at ease with his wit and charm until she was talking to him like an old friend. Flanked by guards to protect him from the over-zealous, they had mingled at the reception given before the concert. She had fed him tidbits of information about different people at the affair. She obviously enjoyed her role as an ingenue gossip. Thad was amused.

  At one point during the evening, Brooke had pointed out to Thad an influential young congressman whose face and name he recognized. He had seen him often on television. The man was active in the Black Congressional Caucus and an eloquent spokesperson for the rights of minorities and the underserved. In his late thirties, according to the media, the congressman had risen from extreme poverty and hardship to succeed in business and was now a man of some influence—a real power broker in Washington. He was wealthy and handsome and had been named on the same list as Thad as one of the country’s most eligible bachelors. Darnell had spoken highly of him during their many discussions and conversations. She liked his politics, but it wasn’t his politics that impressed Brooke.

  “He’s a major hunk!” she gushed girlishly. “And he’s not married. All of the women in here are after him.”

  Thad chuckled. “Are you one of them?”

  She looked at him, horrified. “Are you kidding? He’s like, forty or something. He’s too old for me. My mother would die!” Her voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper. “I hear he’s got eyes for our guest star, though.” She didn’t notice the muscles on Thad’s face tense.

  “And who would that be?”

  “Darnell Cameron, of course!” She looked at Thad as if he had committed a crime. “You do know that she’s singing tonight?” Thad nodded, but didn’t respond.

  “Anyway, he’s a great fan of hers. I’ve heard he has every CD she’s put out. He got her hotel room number from my mother.”

  Thad’s eyes narrowed. He lowered them to his glass of punch to shield them from his enthralled hostess as she prattled on. “Did I tell you that my mother is the main hostess of this event?” She grinned proudly. “She’s just got to meet you. She’ll die.”

  His mounting anger under control, Thad threw her a disarming smile. “You were saying that he got Ms. Cameron’s hotel room number?” The smile worked as Brooke all but melted before his eyes.

  “Yes…yes…” She laughed nervously as all of her thought processes seemed to flee. Her friends would never believe that she had spent the evening with this man. She swallowed nervously, mesmerized by his dimpled smile. “My…my mother, she’s such a sucker for him—the congressman, that is. He told her that he wanted to ask Ms. Cameron if he could take her to the private party he’s throwing at his townhouse after the concert.”

  Thad raised a brow. “Oh, really? A private party.”

  Brooke nodded, too caught up in her tale to notice his reaction. “Oh yes! He sent flowers to her dressing room.” Stopping to take a breath, Brooke looked perplexed. “But I don’t know if she’s going or not.” She brightened. “But you’re invited. All of the celebrities are invited.”

  A rush of fans interrupted them, and the concert began before he could question Brooke further. Spurred by her words, he had made a decision. There would be no private party for the esteemed congressman this evening. Neither would there be a private dressing room meeting for him and Darnell. Tonight was the night that the two of them would emerge publicly as a couple. No longer would there be any pretense. She had made demands of him to which he had willingly submitted. She had driven him to complete distraction. His love for her consumed him, but tonight she would dance to his tune.

  * * *

  The applause was deafening as Darnell finished her last song. She was always grateful when an audience showed how much it appreciated her efforts to entertain. God had bestowed on her a gift that she shared willingly. This audience’s response was overwhelming. When they stood and cheered, it brought tears to eyes that subtly searched the audience of distinguished dignitaries, senators, congressmen, celebrities, and even the President of the United States, for the face of only one person. She didn’t see him, but she had felt his presence from the stage.

  Making her way back to her dressing room, Darnell could barely conceal her disappointment. Was she being foolish? Was he really here?

  All access to the dressing room area had been banned by the Secret Service as the President and the First Lady made their appearance in Darnell’s dressing room. After the First Family’s departure, she hurriedly changed from her stage clothes to one of her favorite dresses, a sexy little yellow number. Her hostess, Mrs. Presser, then came to take her to the reception hall.

  Her hostess was an energetic woman in her late forties who did everything with a sense of urgency. Led by a horde of security guards, she escorted Darnell from the theatre through an underground tunnel and a series of hallways until, eventually, they reached the reception. At their entrance, they were delayed by a horde of fans seeking autographs. Darnell obliged.

  As she was signing, she thought that she caught a whiff of familiar cologne—his cologne. Her eyes flew up and swept the room discreetly. Nothing. She returned to the task at hand as she recalled the smell of him when they were last together, how his mouth had devoured her lips, how his hand had caressed her. The memory of the sensations that only Thad could arouse in her made her falter. Alerted, Mrs. Presser became concerned as Darnell swayed.

  “Oh my goodness, are you all right, my dear?”

  “Yes…yes, I—” Embarrassed, Darnell didn’t know what to say. The lady would be the one to faint if she knew what was going through her mind.

  Mrs. Presser started shooing the fans away. “No, no, no! She can’t give any more autographs. You’re crushing the poor woman. Give her room. Give her air. You!” She commandeered one of the security guards. “Get us over to our table, now!” She turned to Darnell. “Dear, we must get you something to eat.”

  Darnell smiled back at her weakly. How could she tell her that she didn’t want food and she didn’t want to be part of a social gathering? There was no gracious way to say that she would rather have skipped this part of the evening or to explain that all she really wanted at
the moment was Thad Stewart and to be held in his arms. So she followed the security guards who did as directed and cleared a path as the small entourage moved further into the room.

  Across the room, fans surrounded Thad, demanding autographs. He saw her enter the hall, a blur of yellow against a sea of moving bodies. She was no longer on stage, but in this room, only yards away from him. His eyes, his mind, his every sense had been aware of her as he moved forward. However, the commotion his presence in the room was causing became a problem. Before he realized it, he was trapped against a column, unable to move.

  Thad looked up from signing an autograph to see Darnell and her party moving away from him. He thrust a pen and paper into the hands of an excited fan and broke free of the crowd. Ignoring the disappointed protests that followed him, he moved forward, rejecting all efforts to gain his attention. His eyes never left the splash of yellow, so near, but still too far to overtake. At this moment, he no longer cared about pleasing fans, or anyone else in this room. No telephone calls, no notes of love, nothing at all could replace his looking into those eyes and touching her.

  As he drew closer, his determination to get to her became more acute. Standing in his line of vision, he saw the congressman who had been the subject of Brooke’s earlier conversation standing opposite Darnell. With wineglass in hand, he laughed and chatted easily as his hand reached out to touch the woman whose attention he coveted—Darnell Cameron. Thad quickened his pace.

  Darnell’s energy was waning. She was tired. The concert had been nearly two hours long, and she had given her audience all that she had to give. She had smiled so much that her face felt tight, and the small talk in which she was engaged was becoming monotonous. Yet she remained gracious. This was as much a part of her job as singing. So when the handsome congressman, whose work she had admired over the years, stopped her to talk, she gave him her attention.